


never getting rid of me

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Time Travel, tooru /does/ go to shiratorizawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 17:51:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20821391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hajime makes a wish.He makes his wish because there’s so much love in his heart that it hurts. He makes his wish because he knows, that in another life, Oikawa could have that. Have everything.





	never getting rid of me

He makes his wish when he catches the unbreakable Oikawa Tooru’s tears streaming down his face, fingers clasped in prayer.

That’s new. Oikawa’s never been the type to rest his beliefs on any omnipresent deity; he hasn’t been ever since that youth camp when he was young, because all he hears now is _ you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong _ like how that pastor with the hooked nose looked down at him from his spectacles, tone final and angry and stern. _ You’re wrong, _he had said, and Oikawa, young and scared and all of fifteen, had pushed himself under Hajime’s covers, sniffling and crying and so, so scared.

_ Get yourself together, _Hajime told him, rough and mean and angry, but he was more scared than he’d ever admit. 

See, Oikawa thinks so much more than anyone else—overthinks, works himself up to a panic, picks apart the pieces and messes them up until they start to make sense. He only learns to love after he’s tore it apart and made it anew, turned it to something wholly his—he loves so intensely that he _ makes _it his.

Which is why he doesn’t like to love; when he does, he picks wisely. Maybe it’s him being picky. Maybe it’s the commitment issues. Either way, Oikawa doesn’t like doing things half-assed.

He’s not sure if this means Oikawa has had a change of heart, or if he’s desperate. He’s not sure if he wants to know—he still remembers Oikawa’s lecherous grin, his raised eyebrow, the distaste visible in the lines of his mouth. _ I don’t really care for all that, _he had said, playful, playful, playful. He’s never liked people knowing that he was just as human as they were.

He makes his wish when he sees the photographs of Seijou taped to Oikawa’s wall. The trophies that never really held a candle to what he really wanted. The years and years of hearing people whisper of wasted potential, the mumbling of _ oh he’s good, so good, but such a waste, such a waste. _The faraway gaze that he sometimes has, sitting cross legged on the rooftop with his bento laid on his lap.

He makes his wish because he knows Oikawa won’t ever make it himself. Too damn attached. Too damn stubborn.

“You creep, Iwa-chan.”

He makes his wish because there’s so much love in his heart that it hurts. He makes his wish because he knows, that in another life, Oikawa _ could _ have that. Have everything.

“What are you doing, standing by the doorway like that? Come in already.”

He could love someone the same way he loves Hajime—flip through the same honeyed snapshots and find love teeming in the roots, hidden and silent but still _ there. _ Oikawa could learn to love a handwriting that wasn’t Hajime’s, could find victory in arms that weren’t his, could find himself in an altar promising promises he swore he’d never say to anyone but Hajime. Reach the heights that were meant for him, if only, if only.

If only.

He makes his wish because he knows Oikawa could go farther. Be better. Smile a larger smile. Own a heart that could beat louder and louder and _ louder _—

“Can you even hear me?”

Well, maybe not.

“What’d you say, Shittykawa?”

Oikawa crosses his arms. Pouts. Like he didn’t just lose everything. Like being here with him is enough. “So you weren’t listening.”

Hajime knows him enough to know that it won’t be. Nothing ever will be with him.

“We could have had everything.” Hajime says.

Oikawa looks at him appraisingly. Tells him, “Well, we don’t,” all snooty and irritated. Grabs his hand, memorizes the map of his veins, runs his fingers on the pads of his thumbs. He always does this. Looks like he doesn’t know what to make of Hajime. Looks like there is so much more to know. _ What more can you see? _“Are you sick, Iwa-chan? It isn’t like you to be—”

“Get over yourself, asshole.”

He makes his wish because his whole life was Oikawa’s. They look at each other, Oikawa grabbing into his hand like a lifeline. He doesn’t cry, not quite. He looks close to it, though. Not that the prideful little shit would ever admit to it.

“You’re the one wasting your time on what ifs!”

He makes his wish because he’s not that selfish. He may be Oikawa’s, heart and soul, and Oikawa’s may be his, but he could be so much more.

“Come on, Iwa-chan—”

He makes his wish because it’d be enough for him. It would be more than enough just watching him. It’d be more than enough.

“—isn’t this enou—”

He makes his wish and puts his whole heart into it. Hey. _ Hey _ , he pokes at the universe, watches the constellations framing Oikawa’s nose, hair and eyes, watches the wishes dispel into truths and hopes and everything else, _ hey, are you listening over there? _

Please don’t let him stay.

-

Fate hears a boy that day, hears a boy who offers his heart on a platter in exchange for a life made new, and takes pity. Watches as this boy sings hymns for a boy he loves more than life, and weeps because Fate understands, more than anyone, what it feels to lose.

This boy’s lover is timeless in a way most mortals aren’t—familiar, he is, like he’s defied space and time before, but has been left unchecked.

Fate watches the way the boy looks at him; like nothing could ever place higher, and suddenly understands.

This boy’s prayers alone has saved his lover too many times to count. Again and again. Fate grants his wish—

-

—but the boy is not sure how it happens. Instead, it is something he remembers in fragments. He remembers the yellow of the ridiculous shirt Oikawa wore that day, the kaleidoscope light filtering through the blinds, that crooked smile that never seemed to have an ounce of truth in them.

“You’d go that far?”

Of course he would. This is Oikawa we’re talking about here. His heart didn’t pump blood and transfer oxygen; it carried instead the misplaced hopes and dreams that he decided should be powered by gasoline instead of willpower.

He has an inkling that this isn’t how it was supposed to go. Sees a life so different than this one. He has an inkling that those dreams weren’t always just Oikawa’s to carry; he was supposed to be right there beside him.

He has an inkling that this isn’t how it was supposed to go, but an inkling is just an inkling and the reality is that—

“I could be everything, Iwa-chan!”

This doesn’t feel right. He thinks _ what about me? _ He thinks _ are you not going to stay? _ He thinks _ can you please stay right beside me? _

But he doesn’t. He holds his tongue. Because this damn idiot would. Oikawa would stay right here in this empty space beside his, and it would never be enough for him, and even as the years pass, even as he insists that _ right here is fine, Iwa-chan, _it wouldn’t take long for disappointment to turn to despair and despair to turn to disdain.

Hajime doesn’t want a sacrifice. _ Love is sacrifice and sacrifice always hurts; it should hurt it will always hurt if it doesn’t then it’s not sacrifice— _He doesn’t want him to stay.

“Then go,” he says. Oikawa smiles.

“I’ll give you my autograph once I get in the big leagues, Iwa-chan.”

“Get over yourself.” Go. _ Go _, I believe you.

He smiles.

_ Go make me proud. _


End file.
